


Ancient Bonds

by MandalorianHybrid



Category: True Blood (TV)
Genre: F/M, Past Torture, Sex, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28423083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandalorianHybrid/pseuds/MandalorianHybrid
Summary: Eric has accepted a lot of things from others to settle their debts: money, favors... people. After accepting a young woman as payment, Eric learns quickly that pride, no fear, and unrivaled rage hide much more interesting depths. But he soon finds he isn't the only one she's tied to in one way or another and that he's not the only one that lays claim. (Themes similar to the show)
Relationships: Eric Northman/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to say now, even though she doesn't appear until later, that I'm not a Sookie fan. I think the writers did a terrible job with her on the show. Maybe she's better in the books, I don't know, I've never read them, but the show was another story. Everyone else got these great story lines where you'd see their character grow and change, but -at least to me- she had the least development. Every time I started to get on board with the character and like her, the writer's made her do something that just sent it back to square one, so, not a fan. Don't expect too much of her in the story. It'll focus mostly around Pam, Eric, and the OC. I'll also put season/episode names at the top near the chapter for reference when they apply. Anyway, thanks!

_(Somewhere in Season One)_

Eric sat on his throne staring absentmindedly at the lingering patrons, a few humans with even fewer vampires. The dancers shook their bodies on the poles, half naked if not completely. Human men swooned over beautiful vampire women, and human women did the same for unnaturally attractive vampire males. It made him sick in many regards, but it had become the way of things. He had to admit, though, the passing of the Great Revelation made some things more fun.

He liked hearing his partner's hearts beat erratically within their chests even though their bodies, in truth, were unable to facilitate him in all his glory. Even if he didn't actually sleep with some of them, so many swooned and crooned over being so close to the vampire Viking that it tainted their blood with delicious desire.

A wicked smile curled his pale, dead lips at the thought. He knew he'd have to find one for the night, someone with whom he could pass the time. Male or female, it mattered little. He wanted someone living to worship him that night, if even for a few short hours.

The slight pleasure the thought brought to him was broken, however, when a commotion came through his front door.

His keen eyes shifted, ignoring the words from the patrons and their shock at what was happening. Five large men, vampires, stormed through Fangtasia's front door. Eric scowled at the arrogance of it, but couldn't hide his curiosity at what they hauled in with them. His finger lightly traced his lips as they walked forward, four of them carrying some kind of metal crate, close to a coffin in appearance with three tiny holes drilled in the top. Surely they weren't big enough for breathing holes.

The man in the lead had been Anthony, someone indebted to Eric at the moment and owed him quite a bit in the ways of either money or favors. Eric hadn't decided which yet and preferred to keep his options open.

"And the meaning of this rather _rude_ intrusion is, Anthony?" he asked in an even, eerie voice. He seriously considered making an example of the vampire who dared to interrupt the festivities in front of paying customers.

Anthony shifted for a moment, ringing his cold hands before speaking.

"I've brought something that will settle my account, or at least part of it, Sheriff."

"I will decide what will or will not settle any part of the debt you owe me." he corrected. Anthony shrank away at the stern tone, nodding subserviently. "Still," Eric sighed, his eyes falling back on the metal coffin. "I would like to see what you would think worthy."

"Of course, Sheriff." He turned and motioned to his men to set the object down.

"Not here, you idiot." Eric sighed once more. He stood and motioned for Anthony and Pam to follow him.

The group of vampires did as told, carrying the impressive and curious case behind them. Eric walked leisurely through the back halls of his bar and to the familiar steel door that led to the dank basement below. Unlocking it, he flipped a switch and descended the stairs. Pam's heels clicked behind them as she followed, annoyed at the newcomers, but doing her Maker's bidding regardless. She was always annoyed when people came to call with business because it rarely ended favorably for them. It was generally a headache. Eric had to agree.

When they reached the bottom of the concrete stairs, Anthony motioned for his men to set the coffin down on the damp floor and they obliged.

Pam joined Eric's side, each sharing a bored expression while Anthony went to work flipping the rather impressive hooks and locks that kept the steel box closed. Anthony’s men stood guard behind him, seemingly ready for whatever might pop out.

"There a reason the coffin's locked up so tight?" Pam asked with a mild sneer. "Who are you trying to keep out of that thing?"

"With all due respect," Anthony replied, obviously annoyed by her tone as he knelt down beside the prison. "It's not to keep anyone out. It's to keep her, in."

She perked. "Her?"

Anthony said nothing more as he flipped the lid over. The thick chunk of steel hit the ground with a tremendous _clack_ before settling. Eric arched a brow at what lay within.

It was indeed a _her_ , a young woman no more than twenty years old by the looks of it. She had been bound in place by thick steel chains wrapped securely around her body. Her arms were crossed over her chest while her hands were wrapped in what appeared to be, and smelled like, old leather mitts.

Another long, thick braid of iron curled around her legs from waist to ankles and back again. She looked as though her petite frame would have been crushed underneath the weight of the massive chunks alone. And as though that weren't enough, two chains crisscrossed her body, attached to the corners of the coffin to keep her from sitting up and another across her midsection from left to right.

Eric marveled at the way she was being held, hearing a distinct heartbeat within her chest and knowing immediately she was human. A smile touched his lips as he surveyed her body. Tattered clothing, dirty and beaten, was all she had to wear. Her jeans were covered in tears, dirt and blood stains, and her long-sleeved black shirt fared no better. Everything was shapeless and old. Eric assumed Anthony rarely, if ever, removed her from the box to be cleaned.

His gaze traveled languidly over what was meant to be his new meal before finally meeting her face. Fluorescent green orbs, unnaturally bright in appearance, glared at all in the room with an animalistic hatred.

They were an odd color and one that drew him in as much as the rage they held. He had trouble deciding what to call the shade of green, trapped somewhere between emerald and the neon color used for bio-hazard signs. Whatever it was, it made them almost glow.

Her delicate brow was knit in anger while everything from her nose to her chin had been covered with a thick leather strap. Before he could stop himself, Eric laughed, much to the shock of all around, including his progeny.

"I must say, it doesn't appear as though you’ve spared any expense. Why is she bound like that? Are you scared she might hurt you?" he mocked.

Anthony bristled. "It became necessary over time." He answered in as strong a voice as he could, though the shame lingered. "I wanted to ensure she couldn't move."

"Clearly." He smiled as he advanced on the young woman.

Eric knelt down beside her near her shoulders and stared at the young woman that seemed to vibrate with anger. His hand came out and lightly touched her forehead, the only real flesh that wasn't covered with either metal, leather or clothing. She smolder beneath his hand. He marveled at it and that she didn't even shy away as most humans would. There was no fear in her, only rage.

"Is this meant to satisfy our debt?" he asked as he stood.

"Her blood is unlike anything I have ever tasted before," Anthony said, almost gushing about the concept. "I want to give her to you, as a partial payment."

Eric cocked his brow to the vampire then heard something that sounded like a hiss coming from the woman in the casket. He turned with surprise on his face and, still smiling at the circumstances he found himself in, tilted his head to the side.

Eric inhaled her scent deeply. Through the dinge and damp of the basement, and through the dust, dried blood, and the smell of others on her body, he smelled her. She smelled fresh, like the open air of some beautiful world, something lacking in any place he had been to in the past few hundred years. He had to admit, it tugged at him, gripped something in his chest, his stomach, and his groin. He wanted it, but wasn't foolish enough to show the fact.

"Show me," he finally said.

Anthony nodded obediently. He stepped to the prisoner's side and reached for a knife in his pocket. Before he cut her, he snapped his fingers at one of his men who instantly produced a small shot glass from his jacket. Anthony seemed to have anticipated the demonstration.

Anthony approached her carefully while Eric and Pam grinned over how delicately he touched her, rolling back her long sleeve as though she would burst free and kill him. When the fabric was far enough back, he jabbed her forearm, twisting the knife to open the wound further as he filled the glass. She moved violently, the chains clanking and shifting as she fought fruitlessly against them. Anthony finished filling his glass and pushed her sleeve back down. He stood.

"Spirited isn't she?" Pam asked sarcastically, smiling despite herself. She seemed to find the whole thing funny.

Anthony said nothing as he handed Eric the small, clear glass of red liquid. He took it. The fire of her blood emanated through the thin glass. It was like holding a burning piece of coal in his fingertips.

_Interesting_ , he thought to himself. Blood generally cooled quickly once it left the body, but not in her case.

Eric proceeded to treat the sample like a fine wine, even going so far as to lift the shot glass to his nose as he swirled the thick crimson around inside. He could already smell it, but felt as though he smelled it anew when it was directly beneath his nostrils. It was a medley of scents, many of which weren't familiar to the humans he ate. He could smell hints of open air, the ocean, dirt from the cleanest land. All were things the Industrial Revolution squeezed out of existence. Humans had begun a centuries-long campaign of polluting not only the planet, but themselves. It was rare indeed to find someone beyond that to feed on, someone who didn't possess the familiar tang of the modern world.

"She is one of the most unique and purest sources I've ever tasted."

Eric cocked his brow to the vampire, annoyed he had spoken. Anthony shrank back again.

"I'll decide for myself."

Despite the words being polite, they were stern and cautionary. Satisfied that the man wouldn't speak again, Eric brought the glass to his lips and drank.

The moment the blood touched his tongue, heat surged through his body. Savoring the blood was no longer an option. Eric swallowed the liquid greedily and it radiated through his body. It move through every vein, every muscle as though he were still alive. The surprise was written across his face as he relished in the taste. True to Anthony's words, she was unique and surprisingly pure. She tasted almost farm grown, never eating any of the processed junk in the world, like she was the vampire version of _organic_. Finally, his gaze drifted back to the woman in the casket.

"Astounding," he muttered. "She will suffice."

Anthony seemed to breathe a sigh of relief that caught in his throat the moment he noticed Eric approach the prisoner. It wasn't until Eric's long, pale fingers reached for the shackles that Anthony spoke out.

"Sheriff!" he snapped quickly, forcing Eric to pause whether he meant to or not. He turned a dangerous eye to the vampire. "Sir, it would be best, for everyone, if you kept her shackled and chained."

"And why is that?" he growled. Eric's frustration and annoyance with Anthony grew by the second.

"She… she has a tendency to escape."

"How many times has she run off on you?" Pam asked with a beaming, sarcastic smile.

Anthony glared at her before answering, "A few."

None believed him and before they could ask him to clarify, the woman in the box did something they hadn't expected. She began to laugh.

Eric turned his attention to her as she laughed, almost hysterically, beneath her gag. The sound may have been muffled, but it was distinct and it was at Anthony's expense. The vampire Sheriff was intrigued.

"I take it, it was more than a few," he said to her.

" _Mm-hmm."_ She giggled, seemingly proud of herself at the memories.

He cocked his head and noticed the buckle on the side of her jaw. Moving with his speed, perhaps just to show her he could, he undid the gag and freed her mouth. The young woman in the box yawned, stretching her jaw and moving it from side to side before taking a deep breath and grinning. It was the first time Eric had seen her face and he wasn't disappointed.

She had deep black hair that he hadn't noticed, the waves resting on the bottom of the box around her head looking softer than silk. She had a delicate, almost childlike face with pronounced cheekbones, a round chin and full pink lips that matched the hue in her cheeks. She was surprisingly beautiful.

"Oh, Anthony," she sighed in a delicate voice, possessing an accent muddled by different regions. Eric couldn't immediately identify it. "No need to lie around your…" Her gaze fell to Eric as she looked him up and down with clear disgust. " _Sheriff_." The word was spoken with a level of distain that didn't escape Eric, though he didn't react as her gaze shifted once again to Anthony. "Tell him the truth."

"Perhaps it was a bit more than a few," he muttered.

"A bit," she repeated with a defiantly happy smile.

"How many times have you escaped?" Eric asked her.

Her brilliant eyes landed on him once again. "Seventy-four times."

Eric doubted he kept his shock hidden. Pam hadn’t bothered to try.

"That's quite a bit," Eric replied.

"I'd say," Pam mumbled as she crossed her arms, her weight shifting to the side. Her fun with the situation seemed to dwindle.

"Every chance I got,” she said. "Is it my fault they couldn't keep me? Who am I to deny the opportunity to exploit their faults?"

"You seem proud of yourself," Eric said, ignoring the hisses and growls coming from the men behind him.

"Quite."

"And yet, they caught you each time?"

Her smile fell as she arched a delicate brow at him.

"They kept me half-starved and drugged so I would be weak. I was never able to gather enough strength to get far enough away,” she answered begrudgingly.

"And I doubt being human helped," Eric added with a smile.

"I have the feeling an infant could have escaped if it so chose."

"Bite your tongue, you blood sack." Anthony hissed.

"Eat shit, corpse," she shot back without fear.

Anthony lunged for her but Eric was older, faster and launched him effortlessly across the room. His back hit the concrete wall hard before he fell to the ground. When he stood, Anthony charged once more, though made no attempt to go against his Sheriff again.

"I should drain you dry or let you starve, you bitch."

"Ooo, such language _,"_ she hissed.

"You killed my men!"

"They deserved it!" she yelled back. "And given the chance I'll gladly rip your head from your shoulders, you useless fuck!"

"Oh, I like her." Eric laughed. "She has… spirit."

Pam laughed under her breath.

"How many of his men have you killed?" Eric asked her.

"Only a few."

Anthony spoke, "That's why she has to be tied up and drugged most of the time. She's unpredictable."

"Are you telling me you couldn't control your food?" Pam asked sarcastically. "Pathetic."

The young woman in the box rolled her eyes to the staggeringly tall vampire woman. They drifted up and down her length, something Pam noticed. Her thick lips curled into a smile as she set a hand on her hip.

"See something you like?" She teased in a sultry tone. Pam may have had no intention of touching the creature in the box, but she adored being admired.

The prisoner didn't reply. Instead, her neon eyes drifted back to Eric.

"So, are you to be my new… keeper?" she asked the Viking.

"You were sold to me, so yes. I own you now," he replied.

" _Do you think it best we keep her?"_ Pam asked in Old Swedish. While the taunting was all well and good, and she enjoyed hearing about Anthony's faults, it was clear the woman in the box was a handful and likely not worth the effort. _"She's already admitted to escaping and killing some of Anthony's men."_

Eric's gaze still moved over the woman's face, watching her and committing her to memory. He liked her lack of fear and sharp tongue. Not many made him smile, but she did, wickedly.

" _Yes,_ " he told her in the same language. _"I think I will have fun breaking her."_

" _And if she escapes?"_

" _We'll kill her,"_ he said on a sigh, though it wouldn’t have been his first choice. " _Besides, we can always keep her locked in the box, too."_

" _I will make you a deal."_

The new voice caused Eric and Pam to tense, making them stand a bit more rigid than before. The smile had faded from the Sheriff's lips as he stared at the woman in the box.

" _I will make you a deal,"_ she repeated in Swedish. And though it was the recent dialect, not a great deal had changed since Eric taught Pam, so all three understood one another with little difficulty.

"And what could you possibly have that I would want?" he asked in English.

"My blood."

Eric raised a brow at her while another smirk curled the corner of his lips.

"It's good, but not _that_ good," he said, almost tasting the lie. He would very much like to have her as a constant, willing blood supply. And if she tasted as good as she did half-starved and dirty, he wondered how much better the blood would be once she became properly nourished.

" _If you allow me to take revenge, I promise I won't run away or attempt to escape. I will do whatever you want as long as I can kill them all."_ She almost growled. He could see the anger when she spoke and delighted in it.

"Intriguing." Eric mused. "And how long would this go on?"

She paused for a moment, seemingly measuring a decent amount of time that wouldn't tie her to the vampire for too long. He didn’t blame her, although it would serve little purpose in the end. Eric had no intentions of complying, well aware she would offer something comical.

" _A week per vampire,"_ she said, keeping to the Swedish so the increasingly nervous onlookers couldn't understand their deal.

Eric couldn't keep from laughing and Pam scoffed at the insubstantial amount of time. If they permitted her to kill vampires, in his district, they would have to get more out of it than a week.

" _A decade per vampire,"_ he countered.

Her eyes went wide and her mouth feel open in shock.

" _A month."_

" _A year."_

The two were unrelenting and she must have known it wouldn't get much better. She didn't want to be tied to him for years, something Eric was well aware of. In the end, it all came down to how badly she wanted her reenge.

" _Three months per vampire is the best I can do. There are more than the few in this room."_

He arched a curious brow.

"How many more?"

" _Nine total,"_ she told him, seemingly disappointed in the amount of time that it would come to.

A slow smile touched his lips. She would obey his every whim for just over two years if he chose to agree. The thought made him, not giddy, though something near. He loved controlling and dominating people, women just meant there was more he could get from them. He adored it more than anything, really.

But, there was an issue. There was something more pressing and he couldn't ignore it. The smile faded as the cold calculating businessman took over his features once again.

"And what's to make you keep your word?"

"If you agree and we come to an arrangement, than I give you my word I'll honor it," she told him solemnly.

He could tell she wasn't overjoyed by the thought, which added a bit of validity to her statement, but it did little sway him. Pam openly laughed.

"You can't be serious," she scoffed.

"Sir," Anthony finally spoke, his eyes still darting around the room skeptically.

Eric turned his head to the vampire. From the moment his eyes fell to him, Eric could see Anthony's worry and apprehension. He looked like a frightened animal, which Eric thought amusing.

"What?" he sighed in annoyance.

"Are we free to leave now that our business has finished?"

Eric could see the hope in the vampire's eyes and it bothered him, made him queasy.

"Yes," he answered, much to the horror of the woman in the box. "But remain in the bar with your men. I'd like to discuss any further business with you."

Anthony nodded and waved to his men to follow. When they were safely up the stairs, Eric knew they'd breathe a sigh of relief. Any good fighter, vampire, or astute person could tell when their lives were being threatened. Anthony did too, and that impressed Eric, though he still had little to no respect for the man.

Eric turned his attention back to the woman in the box, who seemed to be vibrating with rage once again. He cocked a brow to her as her eyes watered with angry tears.

"You can't let them leave." Her jaw quivered when she spoke.

"They're in the bar upstairs," he answered in a lighthearted voice, even daring to smile. "They haven't gone anywhere."

She slammed her eyes shut and released the tears, turning her head as far to the side as she could. She didn't want to look at the man before her. Eric found her more and more curious as the seconds ticked by.

"Then go," she said with an angry, disappointed tone. "Leave me in the box and go."

Eric tilted his head to the side, eying the woman in the crate that seemed to seethe with ire, wanting nothing more than revenge for the way she had been treated. There was a twinge in his gut. He knew the feeling and not being particularly fond of Anthony, he felt his mind turn.

"Have you had his blood?"

Pam and the woman in the box shot him a curious look. The prisoner's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Beg pardon?"

Eric rolled his eyes. It was an upfront question.

"Have you tasted his blood?" he asked again, knowing that he would slam the lid down on her coffin if she asked once more. He wouldn't repeat himself a third time.

"No," she answered, clearly insulted by his insinuation that she had. "I've never tasted any vampire blood."

Eric perked. "You'll drink mine."

"What?!" she and Pam asked in unison.

"If you want out," he said, snapping his fangs out. "You will."

She looked the man up and down. Eric could practically see her worry. He could tell she knew the gravity of the situation and knew she had only one way to escape it.

"Does this mean we have a bargain?" she asked cautiously.

"It would appear we do."

He could see her sigh her relief while Pam grumbled something under her breath. After a few choice words to her Maker about the whole ordeal, she turned and made her way upstairs to the club. Smiling his pride, Eric nicked his thumb, pushing a good stream of blood free before leaning over the prisoner. She seemed to try her best to move back, but there was nowhere to escape. His smile widened.

"I will be able to find you anywhere in the world now," he whispered, his steely eyes holding her brilliant green. "And there will be nowhere for you to run."

She nodded her understanding.

"Good," he cooed, almost reassuringly which even the stranger could tell was false. "And let's make it six months per vampire."

She jerked back before his thumb could touch her lips, slamming her head into the side of the steel box with a loud thud. If she’d hurt herself, she didn't let on. Instead, she glowered up at him with the purest fury he'd seen thus far.

"You can't change the deal."

"I can." Eric didn't bother hiding his patronizing tone. "And if you don't like the new terms, I'll just keep you locked in this coffin, day in and day out, until you die."

There. Right there, he saw it. He saw the defiance waver and almost disappear completely. In that moment, he knew that _she_ knew he held every card. Her spirit wasn't broken, but he’d put a sizable hole in it.

As soft as a whisper, she replied, "Fine."

He smirked again. "Good girl."

Eric placed his thumb closer to her mouth. Hesitantly, she parted her lips, taking in the digit. The wound was closing and closing fast.

His stomach curled as she drank from his thumb greedily, his mind not above wandering to the thought of her repeating the action on another appendage as her eyes drifted closed.

Eric could feel the small slice finally close and without the blood flowing any longer, she opened her eyes. She stared up at him almost lovingly, her eyes half-lidded and filled with adoration and lust. It was a delicious side-effect. He withdrew his thumb back, smirking when the tip of her tongue lightly flicked across it before he pulled it from her full lips with a delicate and arousing 'pop'.

"There now," Eric cooed the words and chuckled internally when she cringed because of it. At least she wasn't stupid enough to believe the tone like others were. "Feel better?"

"Are you going to let me out now?"

Eric reached forward then hesitated. He wondered, albeit briefly, if he should bother releasing her. While he knew he'd have an easier time controlling her than Anthony had, something aided by his age and remorselessness, he contemplated whether it'd be worth the effort or not. She seemed to notice he was having second thoughts and immediately reacted.

"You gave me your word," she growled.

"Did I?" he asked with an arrogant grin.

From deep within her throat there came a sound that sent a delightful shiver down his spine. It was a hiss, but one so inhuman and hateful that even he felt the power behind it. It was impressive.

"Oh, calm down." He sighed, pushing past the uncomfortable feeling she had created. Eric unlatched the ridiculous volume of chains holding her in place. "I'm going to let you out."

She moved anxiously, wiggling from side to side as though it would help in the least. Eric understood the sentiment, but he found it irritating. So, with his great speed, he removed her confines.

The young woman in the box shoved herself to her feet and peeled the chains from her body, brushing them off her shoulders and letting them fall to the ground with echoing clanks.

"Finally." She bit into one of the leather mitts and yanked it off before removing the other.

Eric eyed his prisoner. Standing, she was much less enchanting than she'd been inside the box. He was able to see just how dirty she was, how ill-fitting her clothes were and how ratty her waist-length hair had become.

"When was the last time you bathed?" he asked indignantly.

She looked a bit shocked and embarrassed at his question. "Truthfully, I don't know. I wasn't really given a calendar to mark the days."

"Well.” He didn't bother hiding his displeasure with it. "You'll have to change that. I'm not going to have some unwashed homeless person in my bar."

She growled under her breath at the man smiling as he ascended the stairs. He heard her mutter _asshole_ behind him which made him chuckle.


	2. Chapter 2

Maria felt disgusting. She had made a deal with a vampire, a _fucking vampire_! It made her skin crawl and her fingers ache with the need to act, but she couldn't. She couldn't do anything because she gave her word. Honor was still something she held on to, despite how much trouble it generally caused.

But how else was she supposed to handle the situation? How else would she be able to stand on her own two feet again? The truth was, making a deal with the Viking Northman was the lesser of two evils. If she hadn't, she would remain in the box for decades. From what little she knew about Northman, the fact that he was ruthlessly honest and uncaring had been the constant. She had no doubt, from the moment she looked into his steely grey eyes, that he'd leave her in that box until she starved to death.

During her captivity, Maria didn't know if Anthony and his men were aware she could hear them or not, but she heard them talk about Northman more than once. Anthony kept her in his bedroom at the foot of her bed like some kind of sick hope chest. As a result, she heard about the Sheriff of District Five often. Anthony used to speak of him with agitation-laced fear. She didn't know the specifics of it, but evidently Anthony liked to borrow money and had trouble paying it back. His sums grew to the hundreds-of-thousands-level (interest was, apparently, a bitch) and could no longer pay it. When it reached that point and his patience with Maria had grown transparently thin, he chose to get rid of her. All words ever spoken about Eric Northman by Anthony or any other male were about his attitude. The women, however, spoke openly about his looks, about how handsome and God-like he was. They weren't wrong.

When her gaze first fell on him, Maria saw what those women were talking about. Eric Northman was a striking man from his height to his demeanor and everything in between. He was slender from head to toe, but there was no mistaking the muscle there, muscle amplified a thousand fold by his vampiric nature, and while nice, it wasn't what held her attention. It had been his eyes shielded by long, ashen-blonde hair that fell to his chin. They were fathomless and intense, blue with a slightly grey tone. They reminded Maria of the ocean during a storm, the same dark, chaotic blue of a tempest that threatened to overturn a ship. They held power and age, and unmistakable pain. Eyes always were windows, and Maria didn't want to know what could hurt a man like him so deeply it scarred his very soul.

She didn't know if he would be worse than Anthony, or better, but she knew everything –at minimum- would be the same, and that wasn't an option. Countless months in a dark box with breathing holes so small that a panic attack would make her black out, a literal crust of bread and glass of water a day, and only being taken out once a day for the bathroom were things she never wanted to experience again. So, if she had to make a bargain, to sell her life to a vampire for her freedom, she'd do it. At least with Northman there was an end date.

But she still didn't like him, and doubted that she ever would.

She heard him and his blond companion speaking to the others through the wooden door that separated them. The sound of Anthony's voice made Maria's stomach turn and bile rise in her throat. She was glad he and the others never fed her their blood. In truth, she was fairly certain they didn't want her to have the strength and took to feeding from an IV line in her arm when she proved herself too dangerous. None of them dared get close enough to bite. That was how Anthony lost the first three of his men.

Maria approached the door separating her from the main belly of the club. Her fingers grazed the painted wood. Northman's blood coursed through her and she felt the strength and power behind it. At nothing more than a drop, she knew she was as close to completely healthy as she could be. It gave her enough courage to think she might be able to pull it off.

The knife she stole from the kitchen supplies on her way to the back door was light in her hand, ready. She tightened her grip and took in a deep, steadying breath. Five vampires. There were five vampires on the other side of the door that she was allowed to kill, and while the thought of going after Northman and the blonde had crossed her mind, Maria wasn't so stupid, or naïve. They'd kill her in an instant.

"Tell me how you came across the woman,” she heard Eric say.

"I was hunting in a bar in New Orleans," Anthony said. "When I smelled her, I knew I had to try her, but she was stubborn and wouldn't leave."

"No," Maria heard the blonde lady scoff derisively. "You mean she didn't find you charming?"

Maria smiled to herself. She liked the blonde lady as much as she assumed she could. Then again, Maria always liked honesty and sarcasm.

When Anthony spoke again, his voice was a little tighter than before.

"I drugged her drink,” he said. "I managed to get her out of the bar, but she began to rebound faster than I thought she would, so I put her in my trunk and took her home. I drugged her again, fed, but she fought back. She was too delicious to waste, so I tied her up, but every time I tried to feed, she'd get more and more violent. Eventually, I found a way to keep her subdued."

"With numerous chains and no food," Eric said.

"I couldn't handle her," Anthony said, sounding thoroughly defeated which made Maria proud. "But I know you can."

Something in Maria told her that Northman was basking in the complement, which annoyed her.

"But, I have to warn you, Sheriff, she's—”

Before he could tell Northman anything Maria didn't want him to know, she burst through the door a bit too aggressively. The wooden frame splintered and came to rest at an odd angle. She'd broken it, but that was an issue for later.

Shocked eyes turned to her while the blonde lady and Northman seemed nothing but annoyed.

"That was a bit excessive," Eric said, but Maria didn't hear him fully.

The moment her eyes landed on Anthony, she became filled with all of the memories, all of the torture and feedings. She thought of every time he let his friends chew on her and touch her. She thought of the humiliation through the years and it gave her focus.

The insanity rising within her must have been painted across her face if their expressions were any indication.

"I'm going to kill you now, Anthony,” she told him in a voice that reflected the same.

"Oh, shit," he mumbled.

He knew the danger he was in. Good.

Maria ran for him as fast as she could, fueled by Northman's blood and her rage. She passed one of his men and didn't hesitate to swipe her butcher's knife across his throat on her way. There was a splash and a wet thwack that echoed her behind her. She'd struck hard enough to decapitate him.

Red blood, body parts and screams filled Fangtasia's main room as she fought any and every one. She had a single focus: death.

* * *

Eric and Pam stood back watching. Eric couldn't take his eyes off the scene. It was enchanting and surprising. His captive fought with a speed and dexterity that he hadn't seen in a human before. She was vicious and brutal, and her opponents were stupid. They’d either forgotten they were vampires or her wrath frightened them so much that the thought of running never crossed their minds. They should have run, even if it did make them look like cowards.

It took minutes for it to come to an end and when it had, there seemed to be nothing that wasn't covered with blood and viscera, including the prisoner. She stood in the center of it all, breathing heavily from the exertion. She had "body" in her hair that weighed it down, blood that twisted it into tendrils. Her clothing was slick with red, her shirt clinging to her body, and crimson fluid dripping from her pointed fingernails.

"You made a mess," Eric finally said as he looked over the damage left in her wake.

Her gaze shot to him, breaking her out of whatever blood-craze she'd been in a moment before. There was a little jolt in his chest, a strange sensation when she met his gaze. Her sweet little, child-like face was stripped with blood, too. Ribbons of it cut across her perfect, ivory complexion making her look all the madder. He liked it.

"Clean it up,” he ordered simply.

She flinched. "But, the sun's coming."

"It's going to be very difficult for me not to kill you if you keep whining like that," he replied coldly.

"I wasn't whining," she growled through her teeth. "The sun's coming up and I have to get the last four before they go to ground. May I?"

He tilted his head as a smirk touched his lips. What a curious little woman. She clearly hated vampires and hated him for taking her, but she asked permission to leave.

Eric answered easily. "Be back by sun down."

"She needs to be back before that," Pam interjected. "This place is a mess."

"Pam's right." He nodded.

"Oh, no. It'll be cleaned and fixed before the club opens." The prisoner said eagerly. It was the first form of life she'd truly showed since arriving, beyond her smirks and taunts when Eric had first ungagged her. "I'll take care of it."

"Why?" Pam’s voice dripped with skepticism. She couldn't help it. She was distrustful.

"I gave him my word,” the girl answered as though it were obvious.

"Well." Eric couldn't keep the arrogant smile from his lips. The whole situation brought it out, the strangeness of it all. "At the moment you owe me two and a half years."

A flicker of annoyance and anger flashed in her eyes again, a disappointed rage that made him laugh to himself. For some reason, he enjoyed that she hated their deal so much.

"I know. I'll be back and repair the destruction long before dark."

She headed for the door and nearly made it before Eric appeared in her path. He stared down at her, a woman who barely reached his shoulders, but gave off the power of someone twice her size. It made him smirk again, an increasingly common action since she arrived.

Without a word, he rolled up his sleeve and bit into his wrist. He offered it to her. As before, she eyed the blood with a scowl. He wasn't surprised.

"Drink it, or I'll put you in the box again,” he told her plainly.

She glared at him through long, thick black lashes. He liked that, too.

Still brimming with silent defiance, she wrapped the fingers of her small hand around the fabric-covered portion of his arm and drank the blood before the wound healed. When it did, she shoved it away just because she could. Stepping around him, she slammed her palm into the door and shoved it violently open. Eric chuckled.

"Well?" Pam asked as he returned to her.

"What?"

"Don't give me that look, Eric." she huffed, rolling her eyes at his childish smirk. "What do you plan on doing with her?"

"Whatever I like."

"And during the day? What makes you so sure she'll return?"

"She's tasted my blood. I can find her no matter where she runs. If she doesn't return of her own free will, I'll force her and I won't be as kind as Anthony."

"Judging by what's left, I don't think he was," she sighed, avoiding the blood with her new shoes as she made her way toward the broken door. "Is she to be your new toy since the waitress doesn't want anything to do with you?"

"Miss Stackhouse is a mild interest."

Pam eyed him skeptically. Until that moment, he had been damn-near obsessed with the country girl, so hearing him say something like that was a bit more shocking than he realized. On some small level, he thought he was being honest. Perhaps he was? Or, more likely and what Pam believed, he was downplaying his obsession heavily.

The truth was Eric did think she was a mild interest because he refused to believe anyone, especially someone as seemingly ordinary as Sookie Stackhouse, held any power over him at all.

The girl in the box would be his new toy, just as Pam said. He was curious about her, not just because of the way she tasted, but also because she was so wonderfully violent. Eric could always appreciate a bit of bloodshed and she did it with a surprising amount of grace, all things considered. Even better was that beautiful rage and defiance in her eyes. She was brave, he had to admit, albeit foolish if she thought he'd be as easy a pushover as Anthony had been.

With her gone and a renewed amount of his blood in her body, Eric and Pam retired for the coming day. Whether the girl returned the following night or not didn't matter. It'd be better for her if she did willingly, but he'd be able to find her regardless.


	3. Chapter 3

As the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the horizon, giving birth to the night, Eric rose from his coffin. He'd been awake for nearly a half an hour already, but chose to lie in his place and think.

He made plans on how to retrieve the woman from the box because he knew, somehow, that she had no intention of returning to him despite her promise. Throughout the day, he felt none of the fear he should have given she intended to hunt and kill more vampires. Any rational person would have been afraid. He felt nothing aside from determination so strong he could taste it. So he knew, deep inside, that she fled rather than come back. He wasn't surprised. He expected it, in fact.

Eric pushed open the lid to his coffin with every intention of hunting his prize down and chaining her up in a much smaller box when he smelled it. Cleaning supplies, the stench so chemical he could smell it no matter the distance. He sighed. It seemed Ginger had cleaned up the mess, which meant she used copious amounts of bleach.

Already exasperated just thinking about the work he would have to put in that night, Eric trudged through Fangtasia to the main belly of the bar and paused. With his hand extended and the tips of his slender fingers barely pressed to the door, he noticed that it had been repaired. The bright glitter of new brass caught his attention, as did the unpainted frame they were screwed into. He arched a brow. With a gentle push, the door swung open silently on the new hinges.

The smell of chemicals hit him hard, forcing his narrow nose to curl. He scowled and stopped breathing to save himself the burning it caused, but the scowl vanished when his eyes fell to the pristine layout. Not a chair or table out of place, not a hint of blood remained. Everything glittered like new, even the black and white tiled floor.

Eric stepped deeper into the club, his keen eyes searching for even a hint of viscera or a droplet of blood left behind, but there was nothing. He knelt down and ran his index finger along a black tile. It squeaked it was so clean and he could see the outline of his reflection shining back. Not since they renovated the video store and turned it into Fangtasia had it been so clean.

"Hmm," he mumbled as he stood.

The door to the building opened, throwing the last pink shades of sun in. It drew his attention. He expected to see Ginger, though he somehow knew otherwise. Never since he'd employed her had Ginger cleaned anything half as decent as his floor currently was.

A young woman, the woman from the box, had been the intruder. She'd cleaned herself, as well. Where dirty clothes had once clung to dirty skin was a freshly laundered black shirt that hung off of narrow shoulders. What had once been torn and stained jeans was now a pair of black shorts, almost invisible beneath the hem of her long shirt. Her skin was devoid of any dirt or grime, leaving the ivory tone of it in bright contrast to before. The pair of strappy, black, ankle-boots on her feet gave her inches more than her own height. And her long, nearly black hair was twisted into a lazy braid and slung over the front of her shoulder.

Her head remained down as she approached him, her face illuminated by the screen of a cell phone. He wondered only briefly where it'd come from.

"You came back."

Pam's voice drew both Eric's eye and that of the girl from the box. The blonde stood in the open doorway that led to the back, her face twisted with confusion.

"Why?"

The girl looked from one blonde vampire to the other before her gaze rested on Pam.

"Because we made a deal,” the girl replied.

Eric scoffed a small laugh. Pam shot him an odd stare, arching a perfectly formed brow when she did. He shrugged a single shoulder.

"And," Eric said, drawing the girl's eye. "What did this deal get me?"

She finally stopped a few feet in front of him. Her neon eyes flashed with anger again, with resentment towards him that, truthfully, almost brought another smile to his lips. There was something undeniably entertaining with the way she felt about him.

"Four years,” she said unenthusiastically.

Eric let his smile show, to the point she could see his pearly whites. She scowled and rolled her eyes, apparently not all too pleased with his merriment.

"That's only eight," Pam said as she approached. "Thought there was nine?"

"I couldn't find the last one,” she replied with barely-contained bitterness. She leveled her stare on Eric. "But I will."

"Later,” he told her. Eric's long legs carried him the short distance between them easily. She didn't bother raising her chin to meet his eye, instead staring up through her lashes. "Right now, I need something else from you."

There was an unmistakable groan that laced his words, one that was perhaps meant to be enticing, but it made her frown. She didn't like it. Then again, it could have been his tone, or the insinuation behind it that caused it.

"I'm not sleeping with you,” she told him plainly.

Pam chuckled in the background at her brash and blunt statement, to which Eric smirked, tilting his head to the side as he did.

"Presumptuous, aren't you?" he countered.

"I prefer to say that I'm not an idiot,” she told him. "I'm meant to be a food source, not a fuck toy."

He had to admit, he liked it when she spoke so plainly. It was a relief in many ways. Most people tended to dance around their points with him, to skirt the meaning versus risking angering him. The girl from the box wasn't as timid.

"We'll see." He grinned. "For now, I'm famished."

He reached for her hand with every intention of pulling her to his chest to feed, but she snatched it away quickly. A wave of apprehension swept through her, strong enough he not only felt the trickle of it down his spine, but smelled the shift in her body. He narrowed his eyes while she did everything she could not to meet his gaze.

"You don't want to do that,” she mumbled. She took a marginal step back, placing her hands behind her. "I'll be in your office."

And without another word, she walked back through the door, stowing her phone in her pocket as she did. Both Pam and Eric watched her with mild curiosity.

"Oh good," Pam said with thick derision as she turned her attention back to Eric. "You have a blood bag that doesn't like being touched. That'll make feeding easy."

"Hmm," was all he said.

Eric walked by his smiling progeny and to his office where he found the girl from the box sitting in one of the chairs waiting for him. He immediately snatched her up by the scruff of her neck and shoved her against the wall.

Eric was pressed against her in an instance, stood over her at his full height, sure to illustrate that he was the dominant one in their twisted little relationship. But she didn't shy away. In fact, unlike before, she met his stare head-on without the slightest apprehension.

"Never disrespect me like that again,” he told her sternly, adding a small growl to his words to illustrate his point. "You are here for food. I _own_ you for the next four years. Do you understand me?"

"I do,” she answered plainly. "And I accept that, but you can't touch my hands."

His brows furrowed as he narrowed his eyes. Of all the strange, bizarre things she could have said, telling him to avoid her hands had never even crossed his mind. It was such a weird request that it took him a moment to absorb it.

"Why?" Eric didn't know if he asked because he truly wanted to know, or if it was reflexive.

What followed was perhaps the most unsettling thing Eric had ever heard, not because of the words themselves, but the way she said them, so evenly and coldly, that it made him truly second-guess taking her from Anthony, if even for a moment.

"Bad things happen when I touch people."

Eric stared down at her with the first bit of uncertainty he'd felt since finding her in the box. There was something about the way she answered him and her unflinching stare that disturbed him. Part of him was curious as to what happened, enough so that he contemplated grabbing her hands regardless of how she felt. Another part didn't care. The part that didn't care won out within a few seconds of thought.

Seeming to sense his acquiescence to her warning, she turned her head to the side, revealing her neck to him without complaint or protest.

His gaze traveled to her throat. They found focus on her artery, watching the way it fluttered beneath her milky skin. Her heartbeat thrummed in his ears, but it was steady, not erratic. She wasn't afraid of what he planned to do, of what she _knew_ he would do.

As his gaze traveled down the gentle slope of her neck, he noticed a glint of silver. He immediately glowered.

"Silver?" he asked with a tight jaw.

She looked at him curiously for a moment before down at her necklace. She reached into her shirt and revealed it to him, a thin silver chain with a pendant on the end, a symbol he didn't recognize. But the longer he looked at it, the more he thought he could.

The body of the pendant was shaped like a narrow oval, though the end that pointed down was sharper, like a head of some kind. Protruding from the rounded end at the top was a long, serpent-like coil that twirled around in a wide arch where the chain was connected before wrapping around the body of the pendant fancifully.

The longer he eyed it, the more certain Eric became that the pendant was a cat. The details had been rubbed away through the years, and it looked beaten from age, but it was indeed a feline that laid flat against her chest.

She said nothing and with a delicate touch, she removed the jewelry. Eric frowned.

"I never want to see that around your neck again. Do you understand me?"

Again, she said nothing, but nodded and turned her head once more to the side. Eric lunged for her, sinking his fangs deeply into her throat, without warning and without remorse. Perhaps a part of him simply wanted to drive home that he was the one in charge.

She took in a sharp hiss of air and instinctively clung to him. He was used to his prey grabbing his body, just not the surprising amount of strength behind it. Despite her size, her grip was firm, much tighter than it should have been, but he couldn't think on it for long. The moment her blood flooded his mouth, Eric became filled with a level of hunger that surprised him. The taster he'd received earlier didn’t compare to how it tasted from the vein.

It burned down his throat and filled his gut. It seeped into his veins, his muscles, and even his bones. It was like drinking pure fire, like drinking the sun itself. The longer he pulled the blood from her body, the more certain he was that the power of it, the heat of it, would force his heart to start beating again.

But as the minutes passed and satiation stayed just out of reach, the softer her hold on him became until her hands fell away completely. Her knees began to give, and soon he was holding her up more than her own strength. He heard her heart rate slow, and knew he was dangerously close to causing her irreparable damage. Drawing back had been difficult, but he reminded himself that she was his. She wasn't going anywhere.

Reluctantly, Eric drew away from her. He kept his grasp on her arms tight, but saw the damage done. Her head hung listlessly to the side and he knew he'd drunk too much. Angry with himself, and a bit with her for not being able to withstand his feeding, Eric lifted her into his arms and returned her to the seat he'd previously pulled her from. She slumped.

He clenched his jaw so tightly that he felt the muscle chord beneath his porcelain skin. Eric bit into his wrist and drew his own blood. With one hand, he held her head in place while he put his wrist to her lips.

"Drink," he commanded.

His voice must have made it through some part of her clouded brain because her tongue swipe across his puncture marks. She didn't take much, but it was enough to wake her. She jerked her head away and shot him a hate-filled glare.

"Get away from me,” she hissed through her teeth.

"You need to drink," he told her firmly. "You're too weak."

"That's your fault, vampire. Not mine."

His brows rose. She was scolding him for what he'd done and while she might have the right, he didn't like it. She was challenging him and his authority, again.

"You don't want it, fine,” he said as he stood. "You have five minutes to be on your feet and in that bar or…" He let his sentence dangle.

She looked at him with her head still lazily dragging. She cocked a single annoyed brow. "You'll put me in the box?" Her sarcasm was evident.

Eric flashed her a quick, temporary smile before leaving her in his office alone. On his way down the hall back into the main portion of the club, he heard her mutter, _prick_. He didn't bother turning around to reprimand her. She deserved her anger, honestly. He’d nearly killed her the first time he'd been given a chance to drink from her. He slipped, like a fucking baby vamp, and he didn't like it.

Eric lightly trailed his finger across his cold lips, feeling the warmth the remaining blood had left behind. He sucked the remnants off of his dead digit and reveled in the flavor it still had. Tasting it fresh, pumping into his mouth with each heartbeat and tasting the purity of it had made him lose himself within her flavor, and he knew he couldn't let it happen again. He had to repeat to himself that he owned her. She wasn't a passing meal. He could have it whenever he wanted and that knowledge helped. A bit.

Eric found his seat in his throne and got comfortable. In an hour, the club would open and all types of people from dead to human would flood in. But as he sat there, lining out a plan for that night and making a list, the door to the back opened again. The girl from the box emerged with her neck wiped clean and her skin no longer ashen.

His brows pulled together briefly. Her stance didn't waver, her heartbeat was strong and her heels hit the tile with determination and strength. To anyone who cared to look, she seemed completely healed. Eric knew his blood was strong, powerful with age, but she barely took enough to heal a few scratches, and yet, she acted as though she hadn't been anemic only two minutes before.

She said nothing as she approached him and, to add to his surprise, stepped behind the thrones. She didn't sit beside him, didn't ask what he wanted her to do. Instead, she took a stance behind his left shoulder, just in his periphery, but in the background. Eric rolled his head lazily to the side.

"What are you?" he asked in a subdued voice.

"Nothing," was her only response.

He didn't believe her, but he didn't press, either.


End file.
